A Complexed Sentiment
by hexells2
Summary: Jim Moriarty has a new PA. Moriarty/OC.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Acquaintance

Jim Moriarty was a brutish, remorseless man. He changes himself into a compassionate person as bait to get what he wants. He uses love as bait.

He was not stranger to love of course. When he was a toddler he'd watch his parents sway in their passionate kisses.

Tuesday morning.

"Mr. Moriarty, your new PA's arrived." Craig, one of his henchmen said.

"I'll be there in a second." He replied but his eyes still gazing at the glossy bedroom glass wall.

In his living room, stood a mild and timorous young woman.

Her scarlet were brushed roughly, hinting that she had a busy morning. Her pale blue eyes fixed on a posh velvet sofa that stood on the left corner of the room.

She dressed like a London commoner; an ecru colored knit jumper, jeans and a pair of black loafers. Her lips displayed an unnerve smile considering the fact she was standing in the same room as a 6foot bodyguard.

"Eleanor Ludivine, I presume." He said. Dressed in his suit and his sleek dark hair.

Her eyes turned to look at him.

But he felt something. A queer, unexplainable feeling he hadn't felt before. Her name was calming to say, as if it just flowed out of your mouth like a tranquil waterfall.

"James Moriarty?" she replied. "Please, call me Jim." He approached forwards to shake hands with her, while giving a light smile.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" he offered. "Criminal masterminds don't usually offer tea, you know."

Moriarty sipped his cup of tea as he calmly observed Eleanor.

_Pleasing appearance. Seems quick-witted. She could work. _

"So. Introduce yourself to me." asked Moriarty. He somehow had a feeling around her; a feeling of comfort.

"Well, my mum's French and my dad's English. My mum told me to get a job because she told me she was weary of my current job, which is working as an IT consultant in a highly superior office building. I'm quite reticent."

"Got any boyfriend?" asked Jim.

His question quite surprised Eleanor, but she softly muttered a short reply. "…No."

"Your mother? Is she alarmed you're working with the London's highest criminal mastermind?" asked Jim. "Er.. I lied to her and told her I worked as a assistant manager in a first-class restaurant, just not to make her get a heart attack or something." She replied.

Moriarty gave a small, indistinct chuckle. She had a form of smart comical aspect, which pleased him. He was being frank to himself that she was a quintessential, coy young woman. They chatted, passing in-jokes and conversed about their personal lives, which was surprising for the both of them because they are extremely seldom about their forlorn childhood.

"I have to inform you that will have to reside in my home therefore you will not have tardy." Moriarty says as strolled in the hallway while leading Eleanor.

"But, sir-" "Just call me Jim." He interrupted.

"Um, _Jim_" she corrected. "Will I still be able to contact my family?"

He nodded ignorantly then opened the door he was standing in front of.

The door leads to a bedroom. Not large, but average-sized. A bed stood in the middle of the room with silk metallic gray sheets and red pillows. A gray spinnaker chair stood behind a wooden desktable.

"Wow.. This is stunning." She muttered. "You have a modernistic edge."

"Yes." Replied Moriarty. "You're quite flattering. You'll also be provided by a new set of clothes you can find in the cupboard. I'll leave you here."

He gave her a quick little smile, then closed the door shut, leaving Eleanor who was clueless that her world would change after today.

* * *

12:34 PM, the clock says.

He's still wide-awake but a hint of weariness gleamed in his dark brown eyes. "Eleanor." He whispered, then without knowing it, fell into slumber in his king-sized bed.

* * *

The sunrays passed through the glossy windows and brightened her room. Eleanor gave a short morning sigh as her eyes opened to see the bright radiant sun over her window.

Her foot was now standing on the soft brown bamboo flooring and she walked to the bathroom like a dazed person.

Jim Moriarty sat down on the bar chair behind the counter, sipping his morning mug of tea. Still dressed in his maroon nightshirt and striped boxers, it was highly noticeable he was still slightly exhausted.

"Good morning." He heard a familiar voice.

Eleanor looked different, mainly caused by the change of her clothing. She dressed in a black Donna Karan Draped crepe-jersey dress with matching stiletto boots.

Her body figure had somehow changed.

Her body was more exposed, more formed. Which was also a shock to him.

"Jim?"

Moriarty ruffled his hair and then turned to look at her. "Are you alright?" she asked. "I'm fine." He replied in a hushed tone, barely audible.

"I'd, um, I'd like you to do a few things for me today." He said while Eleanor prepared a black pen and a notepad on her hand.

"As a criminal mastermind, I do and to be obvious have enemies."

"The police?"

Moriarty laughed. "The police are the lowest level of an enemy." He says. "I'd like you to meet him. Phone one of one of my chauffeur to get you to his home in 221B Baker Street. You'll find his number on one of the pages in the phone book on your desk table. Have a chat with him."

"What is he like?" asked Eleanor as she noted down the address.

Moriarty paused for a second, then replied shortly. "An egotistic bastard."

* * *

She appeared calm sitting in the exquisite black Porsche and watched as she passes London in a blink of an eye. Flats and shops arrayed and stood close to each other. Commoners and tourists strolled along on the sidewalks in the broad London daylight.

The car stopped in front of a flat with a jade door that says '221B'. The curtains were currently closed shut, which gave Eleanor a small suspicious feeling.

Her stiletto heels stood in front of the door, and knocked on the door twice.

To her surprise, a woman answered the knock. An elderly woman with pale blonde hair, possibly in her 50's, dressed in an indigo colored afternoon dress.

"Yes?"

"I'm here to see Mr. Sherlock Holmes."

The aged lady gave a slight opening for her to enter and lead Eleanor to the second floor. And finally to Sherlock's room. Eleanor was astonished by the lack of tidiness in the room. Books and few garments of clothes cluttered the floor, until her eyes caught the Skull.

From the bedrooms, she heard a clamourous argument from two men. "JOHN GIVE ME MY PACK OF CIGARETTE'S BACK!" a man's voice roamed through the hallway.

Eleanor could hear the distinctive shuffling feet.

Two men appeared in front of her, one holding a pack of cigarette and the other one reaching to grab it.

Their appearance were highly contrasting. The one holding the pack of cigs had sleek, faint blonde hair with a circular face while the other one had high cheekbones and curly brunette hair.

The man with the faint blonde hair glanced at Eleanor. "Um, hello."

"Dr. John Watson, I presume."

John paused. "Well I'll go make the tea then." He says. "And I'm throwing out this." He shoved the pack of cigarettes into the bin.

The man with the curly hair, whom Eleanor assumes was Sherlock Holmes, offered her to sit down.

They both were tranquil and silent, not engaging in conversation, but quietly observing each other. Eleanor crossed her legs and gazed at him as he did with her. "Who are you?" asked Sherlock with a raised dubious eyebrow.

"I'm Eleanor. I work for someone. Someone you are obsessed with."

"Isn't it supposed to be on the contrary?"

Eleanor gave a light smirk. "Ooh, he was right. You are one bastard."

"What does Moriarty want from me?"

"Nothing. Just your life I assume."

"He's been tricking me for years and putting me on the verge of death, so I ask you madam, why am I not dead yet?"

"You're both alike, you know. You're both cunning. But the only dissimilarity is that you're on the good side. The side everyone prefers."

"Tell me, Eleanor, how long have you work for him?"

"A day."

Sherlock chortled. "Don't be so foolish, he's playing mind games with you."

"But aren't you playing mind games with me right now, Mr. Holmes?"

"Moriarty will trick you. He will put you in a dead end and unlike me I can somehow pass these dead ends. He will hurt you and burn you. Forget your trust or whatever the hell you have in him."

Eleanor only replied in a slick smile.

"Er, sorry, here's your tea." John Watson barged in the conversation and laid a tray of cups of pre-warm tea and they conversed about an hour. Eleanor seemed interested in John because they were two different individuals. John seemed humane and lacking insolence, while on the other hand Sherlock seemed like someone who focuses on himself and himself only.

"Well, I have to go. Good to see you, John. Er, Mr. Holmes."

John and Sherlock heard her stiletto footsteps on the staircase, each moving one step in a moderate, easy pace.

"D'you reckon he'll put her away soon?" asked John as he flipped through to continue reading the morning paper. Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him. "Obviously." John uttered.

* * *

When she was back in the condo, she found the kitchen cluttered in a quarter amount of empty bottles of beer. "That was quick. Did you two have a row?" a familiar voice spoke behind her, to her surprise, she turned around and found him in a clean, delicate and exquisite gray colored suit.

"Sorry, um, I wasn't enlightened that you were a drinker."

"Don't fret, I only drink when I'm feeling.. Disconsolate." Moriarty says. "How was he?"

"Fine."

"Oooh, liar."

She gave a small blush.

"So." He says. "How was he?"

"He's a brusque exhibitionist and thinks he's always error-free. Dr. Watson is a person far more discreet and um.." she paused. "He asked me out on a date."

Jim Moriarty could felt a slight feeling.

And before he knew it, that feeling was envy.


	2. Chapter 2

Both Eleanor and Jim suffered a long, tedious night with a bad case of insomnia. The multiple movements of their bodies trying to rest created a chaotic mess of their sheets.

Eleanor tucked her body into her sheets; her pale, weary face glanced at the alarm.

It was almost 2 AM in the morning and it was incontestable she was going to be late for work. She gazed at the glowing moon while she breathed heavily from her window until her eyes closed and fell into slumber.

Jim, on the other hand, felt as if it was nearly impossible for him to sleep. His thoughts were cluttered with captured memory of what recently happened in the early morning.

His enervate eyes could clearly evoke the dress that framed her willowy, curved body. He put his hands over his face and gave a low groan.

"Oh, fuck it Jim. You're not in love with her." A small voice behind his head muttered, then he quietly fell asleep into his draggling pillow.

The alarm made a booming sound in the sunny morning.

"Must've had a really good sleep, then." She murmured. "Thanks for ruining it."

She stepped out of the shower, with damp and straggly hair and her body wrapped in towel. She clothed herself with her usual work attire. A post-it note was on her desk, she picked it up and read it carefully.

_Your day offs are only during Saturday until Sunday, if you're wondering. Jim._

Next to the post-it note were a plate of freshly baked omelette, bacon strips, mashed potato, beans and a cup of tea. She smiled to herself and ate her breakfast calmly.

Saturday finally arrived and Baker Street had never been calmer.

The wind blew serenely; the temperature was mild for children to play while black cabs pass by and foreign tourists travel through a new world that is Britain.

The black porsche pulled up in front of Baker Street. Through the car window, she could see John standing on the pavement dressed in a relaxed outfit.

Eleanor stepped out of the car. John found himself amazed by her appearance.

"You look brilliant."

A blush spread across her face. "Are you usually this carefree without Sherlock?"

"_Massively_ carefree."

* * *

Eleanor didn't spent much time rambling around London's streets, visiting shops and restaurants. She never had time, really. She found herself regretful she set her main priority as her work. To her, London at the moment is beautiful.

They chatted in the cab and they both hesitated to talk about Sherlock nor Moriarty. John and Eleanor thought they didn't want any stress get in their heads because obviously it was _their_ night.

John chose possibly the simplest date plan in the world: a restaurant date.

They both sat down. Their table was not so close to the door and he was glad the restaurant wasn't stocked with tourists. John gave a little, distinct smile at her.

"What?" she giggled.

"Nothing."

* * *

Another dispirited evening encountered Jim Moriarty.

He gave lengthy, heavy breaths as he stares at the blank and grey ceiling. Jim Moriarty laid his weary body on the black leather couch; ignorant of the fact his back were massively aching. He ran his fingers through his hair and his faint and his sullen eyes turned to gaze at the door hoping she would enter and return from her date.

He stared back at the ceiling, huffing continuously.

Thirty-five minutes later, he heard someone barged forcefully into the room. He turned to find Eleanor with distinctive teary eyes.

"Jim? Are you alright?" she asked him.

"I'm fine. Just feeling woozy." "I'll go get the pills."

Before she could rush into the kitchen, Jim's voice stopped her. "No, it's fine. I'll take them myself tonight." he replied. "Did you cry?"

Eleanor swallowed. "No, no I didn't."

"Was John an annoying dick during the date?"

Eleanor sat down on the leather chair, looking gloomy as ever. The area was now somehow quiet but calming.

"No, no.. well.. I.." Eleanor said in a mute tone. Jim raised an eyebrow at her. "Well?" he asked.

"I accidentally picked a quarrel with him."

"Accidentally?"

"Hey it was his fault!"

Moriarty gave a low chuckle. The lengthy evening were spent with the two lingering in the living room, having a normal chat with a few giggles and them unaware that time had somehow tick quickly without them realising it.

They stumbled upon a silent conclusion. Eleanor hadn't become conscious of the fact she grew sleepy. Her eyelids closed slowly and fell asleep on the chair.

"Eleano-"

Jim paused at the sight of her sleeping. Her mind was in a pool of tranquility. He noticed she gave low, indistinctive purrs while she slept.

Jim raised his gnawing body and calmly carried her sleeping body into her bedroom.

* * *

The four weeks of working as a PA for a criminal mastermind were, well, _satisfactory_, thought James Moriarty.

She was one of the few people to find him enduring. The list only consists of three, the other two are Craig and his senile Grandparents living in the Alps of Switzerland.

Eleanor picked up the schedule printed on a piece of paper from her desk and read it as she sipped her mug of warm tea.

_12:30 AM: Lunch. _

She placed the note on the desk and headed for the door. Jim was already standing in the living room. "I'll order the Chinese take-ou-" "No, no. I'm going to have lunch in a restaurant. I have a meeting with someone important."

"Who?" Eleanor asked him.

"I don't want to spoil the surprise."

Jim and Eleanor entered the restaurant, looking more like a couple than a Boss and his PA. The afternoon was just the usual. Tourists and commoners rummaged through the busy streets while the hot and lengthy afternoon elapsed.

The restaurant setting appeared contemporary and there were only a small amount of number of customers.

In the corner of the room there sat two men. It was only in a matter of seconds before Eleanor would recognize them.

She struggled not to collapse onto the ground.


End file.
